Angelic Demon
by Nienor
Summary: Aziraphale wants to know more about Crowley's methods of temptation.


A/N: Just a little something I wrote a while back. Unbetaed, but I hope it's still readable.

Summary: Aziraphale wants to know about Crowley's methods of temptation.

**Angelic Demon**

'Could you do me a favour?' Aziraphale asked as they sat over a very passable glass of red wine. Well, Aziraphale sat over it, Crowley had finished his fifteen minutes ago and was now immensely bored and trying to make the couple at the next table to start a vicious fight.

'I have business I have to take care of here in London, but I have a job to do in Oxford, as well. Would you mind terribly if I asked you to nip over there to deliver a heavenly message?' Aziraphale asked and sipped his wine while he waited for Crowley to take notice.

'Huh? No, of course not. Actually, I need to go over there anyway. There's this novice, who's about to become a priest, and I have to do something about it,' Crowley said. Aziraphale gave a worried frown.

'A novice? A catholic novice? Oh dear. I do hope we don't have the same man again. It got very messy the last time it happened,' he said.

'I don't think we do, I don't think your side has noticed him yet. Look, this is my man…' Crowley said and pursed his lips in concentration. An image swam in Azirpahale's mind and he sighed in relief.

'Oh good, that is not my man. Same monastery, though, I assume. _He_ is mine,' Aziraphale said and concentrated, as well. A few seconds later Crowley nodded.

'Right. So what exactly am I supposed to do with him?' Crowley asked. Aziraphale shrugged.

'Oh well, you know. The usual. "Yes, Roderick, God loves you and he has a mission for you". Something like that. Booming voice from the sky, possibly a white feather floating down afterwards. I'm quite fond of that, you know. It is a classic,' Aziraphale said and beamed happily. Crowley snorted and leaned back in his chair.

'Your methods are getting old. That whole booming voice -thing was old centuries ago.'

'It is expected, I'm afraid. As a whole, we don't go for the modern technology. What about you, then? Do you tempt them through a mobile phone? Or perhaps you send them some smutty e-mails?' Aziraphale asked, a bit unkindly. He was feeling insulted. His methods worked just fine.

'Ha, no. In fact, in situations like these I tend to take a more personal approach,' Crowley said and grinned, obviously waiting for the penny to drop. Aziraphale stared at him in confusion.

'You know, add some personal _touch_,' Crowley said and winked. Aziraphale gave him an empty look.

'Well, I have always appreciated good craftsmanship,' he finally said, when the demon seemed to expect something more, and finished his wine in one delicate sip. Crowley just shook his head and sighed quietly.

The man and woman on the next table threw spaghetti and meatballs all over each other.

*

Now it was three days later. Aziraphale was making his way through quiet corridors in the monastery. He had, after some thought, decided to check up after Crowley. After all, he really wasn't supposed to trust a demon. But as it turned out, Crowley had carried out his deed remarkably. Aziraphale had found Roderick the Novice in the monastery chapel, grinning the inane, void grin of those blessed with renewed faith. Seeing that 'out playing with the fairies'-look in the man's eyes had made Aziraphale feel all cuddly and warm inside. There was no better drug than strong faith. So now he was leaving the monastery and pondering on whether he should give Crowley a small gift for his troubles. A bottle of wine, perhaps.

He had almost reached the door to the courtyard when he became aware of a fierce praying. It had to be really fierce for him to pick it up. And really close, too. He had learned a long time ago to shut out the prayers of humans, but this one had force. He couldn't pick up the words, but he did feel the strength behind them. Aziraphale backed a few feet and spotted a small, dark alcove behind a red velvet curtain. He shifted the curtain aside for a few inches and glanced inside curiously.

A man was kneeling on the hard stone floor, dressed in the shapeless robes of the novices. He had crossed his hands and was holding them up in the air, and his face was scrunched up in concentration, like a child's. A few tears squeezed out of his tightly-shut eyes. With a start, Aziraphale realised this was the man Crowley was supposed to tempt. What on Earth had the demon done to the man to make him this distressed? Of course Aziraphale knew Crowley was good in his job, but... well, what did he actually do? Aziraphale glanced around guiltily. No one was in sight. Aziraphale took a deep breath and took a look into the man's mind and memories.

And the mind was full of Crowley, full of his images. He was everywhere. His boots, his sun glasses, his arms, his cheekbones. Then, suddenly, one image swam forward, clear as the day, and Azirapahle realised he was staring at the kneeling Crowley, who was slowly taking the novice's rock-hard erection into his mouth.

Aziraphale recoiled, the image slipped away and he was once again standing in the dark corridor, staring at the kneeling priest-to-be. He now understood those jibes about "personal touch". To his mind, it had been a bit more than personal, _intimate_ was more like it. _Indecent_ even better. Aziraphale was quite sure that catholic novices were not supposed to do such things, even less with another man. Crowley had really messed up the poor man's mind.

But by doing what, exactly? Oh, Aziraphale was in no way a stranger to the world of pleasure. Sudden, religious fervour-induced, earth-shattering orgasm came sometimes handy, when one needed to give someone a hell of a religious experience. Aziraphale had even had a few himself, in the earlier days, when it was still a novelty to have a body. Never one in company, though. As it was, it had always felt like masturbating on a very rickety bed when your elderly, but incessantly curious relatives were just behind the paper-thin wall. Knowing that everyone in heaven was aware of his doings had definitely put him off his stroke, so to speak.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly and stared at the man again. He had stopped praying and was now staring at his wristwatch and biting on his lower lip. The man let out a choked sound, closed his eyes again and started whispering his prayers again. Aziraphale couldn't resist. He made sure the corridor was still quiet and empty and moved his mind inside the man's thoughts again.

Crowley. Aziraphale sorted through the memories methodically. Crowley's lips on the other man's lips. Crowley grinding his erection against the man's thigh. Crowley pushing aside the robes.

Aziraphale could feel himself hardening in his baggy, comfortable pants. Normally he had a full control over his body, but this seemed to be the exception. And yet he couldn't pull away from the novice's mind.

Crowley biting the man's neck. Crowley licking the man's nipples. Crowley dropping on his knees. Crowley's hands on the other man's shaft. Crowley wiping his thumb over the glistening head.

'Oh, dear,' Aziraphale murmured weakly, not quite sure what to say in a situation like this. His knees were trembling. He cast a quick glance around the still deserted corridor, pushed his hand into his pants and touched his erection with his fingertips, as if testing to feel if it really was there. It was. Very much.

The memories got more and more sordid and Aziraphale got more and more flushed. He watched as Crowley's other hand rose and disappeared behind the man's back and moaned aloud as he realised where Crowley had pushed his fingers. He stared at the demon's wet lips as they slowly pulled the man's erection into his mouth. Aziraphale wrapped his palm around himself and started to stroke hesitantly.

'_I'm masturbating in the middle of monastery corridor!'_ he thought, feeling absolutely horrified and extremely aroused at the same time. He realised, through the heated fog in his mind, that all this time he had focused only on Crowley, had even forgotten what the other man looked like. In his mind, he pictured himself there, on the receiving end of Crowley's administrations, and his erection twitched and pulsed in his hand. In his mind's eye, Crowley pushed his own trousers down and revealed every inch of himself. Aziraphale's breathing hitched. He was right on the edge, just a few strokes more and...

'Get out of the poor boy's mind, Aziraphale.'

The words came through the heated memories like slaps of lead falling through fog. Aziraphale snatched his hand away from his pants, jumped back and turned around, his face bright red. He made a feeble attempt at making it look like he had just been adjusting himself, but his comfortable, baggy pants let him down. They only managed to outline his erection perfectly.

Crowley was leaning on the wall a few feet back. He glanced down and smirked.

'Enjoyed that, did you?' he asked. Aziraphale mumbled something and decided to take refuge in indignation.

'Definitely not. I do not understand what my body is thinking. That was the most sordid, disgusting thing I have seen in a long while. That was an evil thing to do to a catholic man! I'm ashamed of you!' Aziraphale hissed, trying to keep his voice down. Crowley shrugged, never taking his eyes away from Aziraphale's bulging crotch.

'Demon, remember? Come away now, I have to be somewhere in a minute,' he said.

'As if I'd come anywhere near you after what I just witnessed...'

'Come along now,' Crowley said and took his arm.

*

And now it was ten minutes later. They were sitting side by side on a bench near a beautiful fountain. The clearing was full of busy people, men carrying suitcases, women in high heels talking into mobile phones. None of them stopped to stare at the odd pair. Crowley must have made them imperceptible.

'What are we doing here?' Aziraphale asked.

'I'm supposed to meet someone here,' Crowley said.

'Who?' Aziraphale asked snappishly.

'Him,' Crowley said and pointed.

A man was making his way through the crowd. He kept looking around and stopping after every few steps, but still he moved forward and finally sat down on the edge of the fountain, letting water droplets cascade over him. He was out of his robes now, but Aziraphale could still recognise him. It was the novice. The man, whose memories Aziraphale had invaded only minutes ago. His eyes were puffy and red, and yet eager and expectant.

'Crowley, what in God's name are you doing?' Aziraphale asked.

'Certainly nothing in His name,' the demon snorted.

'Well, are you going to go to him?' Aziraphale asked. Something inside him felt a bit tight and unpleasant.

'Nope.'

'What? What are you doing? Were you just playing with him?' Aziraphale demanded. Crowley gave a deep sigh.

'Well, look. That man... he would have been a great priest. His words would have given hope and faith for thousands of people. We couldn't have that. There was just one thing, just one thing, which stood between him and his way to greatness. I took that thing, pulled it out of him and laid it down in front of him,' Crowley explained.

'Well, aren't you proud of yourself now,' Aziraphale said dryly, looking at the young man with pity.

'It's my job. But you see, it all comes to freedom of choice,' the demon said.

'What do you mean?'

'He didn't have to come here today. He could have gone to confess his sins, he could have put it all behind him. Instead, he made a choice. He came here, he came after me. He chose me,' Crowley said.

'And now you have left him there. See, he's crying! Again! He can still go back. You haven't ruined anything,' Aziraphale said.

'He could go back. But would he be happy?' Crowley asked.

Aziraphale sulked. After a while he concentrated on the possible futures.

'No. No, he wouldn't be happy,' he finally admitted but continued vehemently: 'but that's not the point. The point is, you have ruined one man's life and took away words of hope and faith from thousands of people. Not bad for a one day's work. I don't think I have ever known you to do anything this evil!' Aziraphale said and pointed an accusing finger at Crowley.

Crowley said nothing. The demon was watching his victim with a surprised look on his face. For a second, Aziraphale thought he was really thinking his words over, but then he noticed that someone had sat next to the young, crying man. Another boy, around the same age, looking hesitant but curious. As they watched silently the boy but his hand on the novice's shoulder and leaned forward.

'Did you know?' Aziraphale asked.

'Did I know what?'

'Did you know he would meet someone here?'

'I had no idea,' Crowley breathed. They watched as the boy went away, only to return a few minutes later with two ice creams. The novice gave a hesitant smile and wiped away his already dried tears.

'Makes you wonder, doesn't it?' Crowley asked. Aziraphale looked at him questioningly.

'About Him. If He really has a plan for everyone. About rules people set to themselves. About how hard it must be to live according to those rules. About which really is stronger, He or love.'

'They are the same thing really, I suppose,' Aziraphale said quietly. Crowley shrugged.

Aziraphale stared at the demon. Crowley hadn't destroyed that man. He had set him free. Oh yes, he had caused damage to the Good Side, but at the same time he just might have given one man a chance for happiness. What a complex creature Crowley really was. How could anyone do so much good and so much evil at the same time, with one simple act? The demon was complex enough to be a human.

Suddenly Aziraphale noticed that Crowley was staring right back at him.

'So... you get off on watching me sucking cock?' Crowley asked. Aziraphale tried to splutter out an answer, but it got muffled.

Fin.


End file.
